


Rain

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Challenge Response, Domestic Discipline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-29
Updated: 2006-06-29
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12798504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Skinner, Krycek and a rainy spring afternoon.





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Krycek has two arms. Skinner's POV. Written for the Rat and Bear rain challenge.  
  
Thanks: To HollyIlex, beta extraordinaire. Thanks also to Alex for suggestions and story help, and to Ursula and Deb for sneak previewing.  
  
Dedication: For Jeanita.  


* * *

Rain

 

By Lorelei

 

 

I found him down by the pond. 

 

He was naked, leaning against the old split-rail fence, his elbows resting on the weathered wood. He was looking out at the water, watching the rain making circles on the surface. I stood for a moment, lost in the sight of him. His hair was wet and hanging in his eyes, his bare skin pale and glistening against the dark backdrop of the woods that bordered the field. Fat raindrops beaded his shoulders, slipped down the graceful curve of his back, threading their way down those long, slim legs before disappearing into the wildflowers that clustered around his feet. He was like a myth made flesh, some wild and beautiful creature who might at any moment turn and bound into the trees, to be seen again only in dreams. 

 

I scarcely dared to breathe. To move now would break the spell, to speak would be a sacrilege. I wanted to capture this moment, wanted to hoard it inside me forever. A feeling of possessiveness overwhelmed me, surging inside me, making my cock harden and press against my jeans. I wanted to turn my face up to the cool spring rain and shout it to the world.

 

_Mine._

 

Alex turned and glanced at me. The effect was at once startling and exhilarating, like a painting come to life. He held my gaze for a moment before turning back toward the pond. I walked over and leaned against the fence beside him. We stood like that for a little while, listening to the soft patter of rain on green leaves. Finally, I spoke.

 

"You know it's raining?"

 

A cigarette dangled from Alex's fingers. He raised it and took a drag. He exhaled slowly, the smoke drifting lazily up through the rain.

 

"Yeah." He looked down and chuckled softly, flicking the ash from the tip of his cigarette. "Feels good on my ass."

 

I turned and glanced down. I hadn't broken the skin. I knew that much without looking. I'd sooner use the belt on myself than damage Alex. Still, I couldn't help wincing. His ass was still deep red, the neat stripes I'd laid across it fading but still visible. I turned back to face him.

 

"Alex, I-"

 

"Don't," he said. "It's what we agreed on."

 

I nodded. 

 

"You okay?"

 

He was silent for a moment, watching the ripples on the water.

 

"Yeah. Just wondering when I'm finally going to quit fucking up."

 

He was trying hard to sound casual, but I know Alex Krycek better than anyone, as much as anyone can know him. I didn't need to listen for the tiny, almost undetectable strain in his voice to know he was upset. The cigarette in his hand told me all I needed to know. It's a bad old habit that surfaces when Alex is in distress, wrestling with some feeling that worries or frightens him. 

 

I'd been puzzled at first. I couldn't understand how he could stand the smell of the smoke, how he could endure such a powerful reminder of the life he'd finally escaped. But then one afternoon, watching him sitting by the window, smoking and watching the snow fall, I understood. It's natural to need something familiar, to seek comfort in memories. It's not Alex's fault that all of his memories are bad.

 

I moved closer. It was frustrating to be so near and not be able to touch him. That would be the obvious thing to do. Just pull him close and hold him and chase away whatever demons were haunting him. But nothing is obvious where Alex is concerned. If I push too hard, he simply shuts down. He'll tell me what's wrong, but I have to draw him out slowly, give him the time he needs to find the words.

 

I rested my elbows next to his. He didn't say anything more but he didn't move away. That was good. I watched him smoke for a little while, silently marveling at the grace, the innate sensuality that Alex brings to everything he does. Even the simple act of smoking a cigarette becomes almost unbearably beautiful; the full lips parting, the soft exhale and the smoke curling upward, lingering briefly above his head as though it, too, cannot bear to leave him. I had to smile. Only Alex could turn a habit I heartily detest into an art form.

 

Alex tapped his ash again and let the cigarette rest carelessly between his fingers. I fished in the pocket of my barn coat and found a mostly dry handkerchief.

 

"So," I said quietly, "you don't think you've learned anything at all since we've been here?" 

 

I took off my glasses and carefully dried the lenses. It was an exercise in futility, but I was glad to have something to do with my hands. I glanced up at Alex. He took another nervous drag and looked away. I had almost given up on getting an answer when he finally spoke.

 

"No," he said slowly, "I know I have. But this time…" he trailed off for a moment, "this time was bad."

 

I nodded. "Yes, it was." I made my voice hard. "You could have been killed, Alex."

 

Alex looked down. "I know."

 

"I would never have known what happened to you," I continued. I hated to be so hard on him but there was no room in this lesson for gentleness. "Do you understand that? Do you understand that I would have spent the rest of my life trying to find you? That I'd never know you'd been picked up out of a D.C. alley with a bullet in your head and dumped in a John Doe grave?" 

 

My words fell on Alex, as unrelenting as the rain. The bowed head bent lower and I felt a familiar ache in my chest. I felt like a heartless brute but by God, I _had_ almost lost him. I could not waver, could not afford a half-hearted effort. Alex had to learn once and for all that he was no longer alone in the world, that he couldn't just go haring off to settle old scores without a thought for his own safety. 

 

"Yes," Alex said. His voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry."

 

"You and I are going to have a long talk about the difference between the truth and a lie," I said. "And that includes lying by omission. You don't just disappear, Alex. Simply not telling me what you're doing doesn't make it okay to go off and almost get yourself shot."

 

He swallowed hard. "I know." 

 

He kept his eyes down, avoiding my gaze. I watched him, puzzled. It wasn't like Alex to brood like this after a spanking. He'd seemed frankly relieved when I suggested the discipline arrangement, and he took his punishments without complaint. He only ever balked once, the very first time. I reached for him, intending to pull him down across my lap, and he backed away, shaking his head, his eyes almost frantic. It was too much for him, too intimate. I quickly learned that he needs space when he's being punished, needs to be free to focus on the pain and the unfamiliar emotions it arouses in him.

 

He seems to find comfort in routine, although he often becomes anxious when I sit him down to talk beforehand. I refuse to skip it, though. There is no way I will ever lay a hand on Alex unless I'm sure that he understands exactly why he's being punished. He gets up after the talk, wanting to get it over with, and leads the way into the unfinished back room we use for his punishments. I'll spank him when he screws up, as long as he needs it, but I won't ever allow that part of our relationship to enter our bedroom. Alex seems to prefer it that way, too. Something about that empty back room seems to comfort him. Maybe it's the barren neutrality of it, its lack of history, good or bad. 

 

Alex is all business in that room. He quickly lowers his jeans and briefs, then bends over the old wooden chair that stands in the middle of the room. He takes all of his strappings that way, head lowered, legs straight, hands gripping the seat of the chair tightly. He's usually very quiet during. No matter how many times I tell him it's okay to yell or even curse, he tries hard not to make a sound. I stand behind him, the strap doubled in my hand, listening for the muffled half-sob that means he's close to the place he needs to be, the place where he can let himself go and accept it all; the fear, the guilt, the love and forgiveness.

 

I never give him more than he needs. 

 

I never give him less, either. 

 

When it's over, I put the strap away and hold him. I make circles on his back, stroke his hair. He rarely cries, but sometimes a few tears slip out, soaking warm and wet into my shirt. He found it difficult to be held at first, but I insist on it, and gradually he's come to accept it as a necessary part of the process. 

 

I stood in the rain and watched him, worried. Something was clearly wrong. I looked down again at Alex's red ass and frowned. I have to be very careful with him because of his high pain threshold. I make sure he feels it but I've never raised so much as a blister. I swore to myself at the very beginning that the first time I did, we were ending this discipline arrangement for good. I took a deep breath. If I'd gone too far, I needed to know. I needed to make it right. 

 

"Alex?" I asked. "Are you sure you're all right?"

 

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the two ducks paddling around the pond, their vibrant green heads shining with raindrops.

 

"Look at me," I said firmly.

 

Slowly, Alex obeyed. His expression was carefully blank but his haunted eyes betrayed him.

 

"Tell me the truth," I demanded.

 

Alex blinked and looked surprised. "Yes," he said again, turning back to the ducks. "Don't…don't feel bad about it, Walt. You did the right thing. I fucked up royally and I got what I had coming."

 

"Then what?" I asked gently. Tread lightly, Walt, I reminded myself. Don't push too hard. "What is it, Alex?"

 

Alex looked down, stubbing his cigarette out on the fence rail.

 

I exhaled sharply, frustrated in spite of myself. It had to be the strapping. What else could it be? Damn it all, I should have waited. I remembered the way my heart pounded when I woke in the night and saw Alex standing in the doorway. The way I'd grabbed him and pulled him close, the way he'd clung to me, white-faced and shaking, clearly not expecting to be welcomed back. I mentally kicked myself. I'd thought the punishment was too important to wait. Alex clearly expected it and I didn't want his guilt to torment him. We needed to put this thing behind us. And yeah, I admit, I wanted to make sure he'd think twice before he ever did such a damn fool thing again.

 

I shook my head. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. No matter how many times I told Alex I loved him, I was still the one taking a strap to his backside, and despite Alex's assurances, maybe it was just too hard for him to close that door and leave that part of our lives inside that empty room.

 

"Alex," I said. "I think we need to reconsider our arrangement. We tried it and we had some success with it, but if it's going to upset you this much-"

 

"No!" Alex shouted. He looked at me and shook his head. "I…I need it, Walt. I know I do."

 

I leaned forward, almost desperate to take him in my arms.

 

"Then what?" I asked, unable to keep the strain from my voice. "Tell me, Alex. Please."

 

He looked down, holding on to the top crossbar of the fence as though it alone was keeping him from simply flying apart. 

 

"Tell me," I whispered again. "It's all right. Whatever it is, you can tell me." 

 

"I…I saw your face," Alex blurted. 

 

I stared at him, uncomprehending.

 

"What? When?"

 

He stared down at his white knuckles gripping the fence. 

 

"In the back room, when you were punishing me," he said quickly, the words tumbling out, almost on top of one another. "I caught your reflection in the window. I saw the pain on your face. It was like…" he swallowed hard, "it was like you were the one suffering. Like YOU were the one being punished."

 

"Alex-"

 

"It's not fair, Walt," Alex said, his voice shaking. "You…you don't deserve that. You deserve someone normal, not some…some fuck up who doesn't even know how to act like a fucking human being-"

 

"I'll decide what I deserve, boy," I growled.

 

Alex fell silent, still staring down at his hands. I looked at him and froze. Suddenly I realized what he was doing out here, why he couldn't look me in the eye.

 

"You were thinking about leaving, weren't you?" 

 

Alex went very still. 

 

"Weren't you?" I snapped.

 

He ducked his head guiltily. 

 

It was all the answer I needed.

 

"Do you want your ass tanned again so soon?" I demanded, more than a little Marine finding its way into my voice.

 

Alex looked up at me slowly. 

 

"No," he said softly.

 

I leaned closer. I needed to get through to him, loud and clear, in a way he understood, or I really would lose him.

 

"Then listen to me and listen good, boy. If you ever disappear on me again, I WILL find you. And when I do, I am going to bare your ass and give you a strapping that makes what you got today look like a game of pat a cake. And I'll do it wherever I happen to find you. Is that clear?"

 

Alex's mouth dropped open, then he lowered his gaze. I waited. There was only one thing I wanted to hear, one answer that mattered.

 

"Yes, Sir."

 

"Good," I said, my heart full to bursting. I held out my arms. I felt a little foolish, standing there like that, but I know my boy. He needs to know he can decide when to be touched, when to be held. He moved slowly toward me and I sighed with relief, rejoicing at the feel of him in my arms, the coolness of his rain-chilled skin seeping through my shirt. I closed my arms around him, feeling him move closer, his arms slipping around me, holding on tight. 

 

I tilted his face up and kissed him, tasting the rain on his lips. 

 

"What am I going to do with you?" I murmured, resting my cheek against his sleek wet head. "Of course it's hard for me to punish you. It hurts me to see you suffer."

 

I felt him shudder and start to withdraw.

 

"Settle down," I admonished, giving his sore ass a light tap. He stilled, but I could still feel the tension gnawing at him. "Do you know what hurts me even more?" I asked.

 

Alex looked up, green eyes searching. I had a sudden urge to throw him down in the grass and hold him there, kissing every inch of him while the rain washed all of that worry and fear away.

 

"It hurts me to see you struggle. To watch you try to adjust to a world you don't understand. To watch you try to follow rules that mean nothing to you because no one ever taught you right from wrong." I smiled at him. "It's hard for me, Alex, but it's harder still to deny you what you need. I love you too much to do that to you."

 

Alex nodded against my shoulder. I felt the tension drain from him. 

 

"Love you too," he whispered.

 

I felt like I could stand there forever, even with the rain dripping down the back of my shirt collar. Hell, it could snow for all I cared, just as long as I had Alex's arms around me, his face tucked into the hollow of my neck. I rubbed his back, the goosebumps standing up on his bare skin. 

 

"Come on," I said, quickly stealing another kiss. "You're going to get pneumonia if you stay out here any longer. Let's get inside."

 

He nodded, delighting me with the first real smile I'd seen all day. 

 

"You know," I said mock-seriously as we began the long walk back to the house, "if we ever have neighbors, you won't be able to walk around naked outdoors anymore."

 

Alex thought for a moment, then grinned.

 

"Then let's never have neighbors."

 

 

The end


End file.
